III
A BABYLONISH HOUSEHOLD
Babylon, the largest, richest, and most powerful city in the world, andof Oriental cities probably the most beautiful, presented, to thediscerning eye, not a few glaring incongruities. Though its populationhad always been large, and was at the present time greater than everbefore or after, the actual area of the city was, nevertheless, much toogreat for the number of people that dwelt in it. There have beenkingdoms of fewer acres than those over which the monster city spread.Between the two walls, Imgur and Nimitti-Bel, were grain-fields ofsufficient extent to supply the entire population with sesame, barley,and wheat in the event of a prolonged siege. This part of Babylon,therefore, called city by courtesy, was really more in the nature offarm-lands than anything else. While within the inner wall, indeedalmost in the heart of the city, were many bare and unsightly acres,used for nothing better than dumping-grounds, or for encampments of thetroops of dogs that wandered freely through the streets as scavengers.In some quarters, however, and especially along the banks of the fivecanals cut from the Euphrates, and winding out towards Borsip on thewest and Cutha on the east, every available inch of soil was occupied.Houses jutted over the streets and were crowded together, side by sideand back to back, without any attempt at system: tenement districts suchas the worst cities of later times never dreamed of. Here thethree-story, flat-roofed buildings would be rented out, room by room, toas many people as poverty obliged to live in them. And these weremyriad. For as Babylon was the wealthiest of cities, so she concealed inher depths nests of filthy, swarming life, of suffering and of privationsuch as only human beings could see and still tolerate.
On the edge of one of these districts, between the square of Nisan andthe square of the gods, on the north bank of the canal of the New Year,in two tiny rooms, with a little space also on the roof, lived the widowBeltani, her daughters, and their male slave. The slave was Beltani'ssole inheritance from her husband. He was her luxury, her delight, theoutlet of her not unfrequent tempers, and one of the three sources of avery limited income. Her daughters were the other two means oflivelihood, but to them--though as girls go they were pretty--she wasindifferent. Beltani herself was not, like so many of the Babylonishwomen, in trade. She did the work of the household; cooked--what therewas to cook; washed--also what there was to wash; kept the rooms clean,as was consistent with tradition; and, hardest of hard tasks, managedthe general income so that, in the two years of their unprotected life,none of the four had starved outright, and none of them had gone naked,while the rent was also paid as regularly as it could not be avoided.Besides this, Beltani held the patronage of two of the great gods; andby their help, together with frequent incantations, had kept the devilsof the under-world from inflicting upon her any particularly direfulmisfortune. Images of the god Sin, of Bel-Marduk, and of the demons ofHeadache and the West Wind, were the only ornaments of her rooms. Eachof these, however, had its shrine, and was regularly addressed threetimes a day; and it is to be hoped that if any demon had a due sense ofproportion, he would refrain from inflicting any further ill of lifeupon these poor and pious creatures.
Neither chair nor rug had Beltani. Four pallets, such as they were,three in an inner room, one in a corner of the living-room; a woodenmovable table and a brick stationary one; some vessels of clay, two ironpots, three knives, and a two-pronged fork, together with an ironbrazier that was kept upon the roof, and lastly, three or four rough,wooden stools, formed the furniture of the house. Nevertheless laughter,and that from very pretty throats, was a thing not unheard in thispoverty-stricken place; and as many human sensations, from joy of lifeto pain of death, had run their course in these rooms as in themagnificent abode of Lord Ribata Bit-Shumukin, just across the canal.
At sunset on the day of the great sacrifice to Nebo and Nergal, Beltanistood in the door-way of her living-room, watching the gory light burnover the city, and, fist on hip, shouting gossip to neighbor Noubta ofthe next tenement.
"Have you been on the A-Ibur to-day, Beltani?" called the Bee, when oneof their intimates had been pretty well demolished at that distance.
"No. Few enough holidays are mine to take. From morning to night thegirls run about the city, and some one must be at home to manage."
"Ay, there's your slave. What good is he if he can't take the rooms incharge once in a month? We have no slave, and my man's at work on thereservoir all day; but I slipped out this morning and went off to seethe sights. Such crowds! All the city was out. I've a rent in my freshtunic."
"Well, I couldn't go. One's slave may do much, but he isn't to betrusted with everything. Bazuzu, is the sesame ground?" This lastostentatiously; for Noubta was busily pounding her own barley.
Bazuzu made some reply from within, and after a moment came out of theroom, bowl in hand. Jet-black, high-shouldered, and slightly lame, forall that as powerful as an ox was Bazuzu. His appearance was startlinglyuncouth as he limped out in answer to Beltani's question. But a gentlerlight never shone from mortal eyes than from his; and a gentler naturenever lurked in so ugly a body.
Beltani took the bowl from his hand, and, calling a good-night to herneighbor, proceeded leisurely to the stair-way that ran up the outsideof the building to the roof. It was on the roof that every family in thetenement did its cooking, except, indeed, in the rainy season. In allthese districts the roof was the one luxury, the one comfortable, light,shaded spot, cool and airy in the summer evenings, protected through theday by an awning hung each morning and taken down at sunset. Roof-spacewas portioned off to tenants according to the number of their rooms; andup here, for them, life was sometimes really worth the living.
While Beltani was up-stairs beginning the preparations for supper,Bazuzu remained in the door-way, shading his eyes from the light of thewest, and looking with some interest out towards the canal. Noubta theBee, still pounding barley, looked also, and presently called to him:
"Baba is coming, there, with the goat, Bazuzu."
And Baba presently appeared. She walked slowly, with a limp, for herfeet were sore and inflamed from contact with the burning pavements.Beside her the silky goat, Zor, trotted along with gentle friendliness.Over her left shoulder hung a long string of pine-cones, gathered in agrove by the river and brought home for firewood. As she reached thedoor-way the slave took these from her and carried them up to Beltani.Baba, meantime, entered the house, passed into the second room, whereshe, her mother, and sister slept, and threw herself wearily down uponher bed. She lay here quite still, eyes wide open, one thin, brown fistthrown above her head, the other hand on her breast, an expression ofintense, never-ending weariness upon her peaked little face. Over her,lying thus as usual after the long day of wandering, Zor stood, lookingat her with half-human disturbance. Presently she ran her tonguesympathetically over Baba's hand, and then, with a goat-sigh, settleddown on the floor beside her, her white, silken coat close to Baba'scoarse, cotton garment. It was a peaceful half-hour that they spentbefore Bazuzu came to relieve Zor of her burden of milk. Then Babaopened her eyes, realizing that it approached supper-time. Rising withan effort, she passed into the other room to wash at the big, open jarof water standing there. Her head, arms, and hair were just drippingrefreshingly, when there came an incursion from without. First arrivedBeltani, flushed with astonishment and anger; after her followed Ramua,in company with a golden-haired youth bearing a silver lyre. At sight ofhim Baba gave a spasmodic gurgle of amazement, and then stood wet andstaring, while her sister gave an explanation of the coming ofCharmides.
"Istar hath bidden it, O my mother," she said, pleadingly, while Beltanistill glared. "He is come from over the desert. He is weary, and he ispoor."
This last explanation was the worst mistake that Ramua could have made."Poor!" burst forth Beltani, angrily. "_Poor!_ And is it thy thoughtthat our wealth is so great that we must house here another one--we whohave not the wherewithal to exist except in misery? Why is the greatgoddess wroth with us? Wherein have I offended her, that she sends meanother
mouth to feed? What can he do, this pale-eyed, white-headedthing? Who is he that you bring him home with you? What have you done,Ramua? How speak you to men that you do not know--men of his class? Iwill--"
She suddenly stopped; for Charmides' "pale" eyes were fastened on herintently, as if he would have read her words from her expression. Andindeed, if this was his idea, the success of it was unique. For when thegaze that caused Beltani to stop speaking, Baba to shake with cold,confusion, and hysterical laughter, and Ramua to turn fiery red withshame, had lasted as long as Beltani could endure it, Charmides, withbusiness-like precision, brought forth his money-bag, drew therefrom apiece of silver, and quietly proffered it to the mistress of the house.
Beltani accepted the money without the grace of an instant's hesitation.Moreover, she advanced into the light, where she could examine it moreclosely to make sure that it was good. "It is not our money. Has it anyvalue?" she asked, looking squarely at the Greek.
Baba went white, Ramua blushed crimson, and only Charmides kept hiscountenance unchanged. It was to Ramua that he looked, this time, forsome guidance as to Beltani's meaning; and, looking at her, he presentlyforgot to wonder why the old woman still held his leafy coinsuspiciously up in the light, after a moment repeating, sharply:
"Is the money of real silver, I say?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Baba, disrespectfully. "This very morning Ichanged one of them for twenty _se_."
"_You_ changed one?" asked Ramua, wonderingly. "How?"
"He bought of me a cup of Zor's milk this morning as we stood near thesquare of the gods in the A-Ibur."
Ramua laughed merrily. "Then it was your _se_ that he paid me for breadand dates at noon."
"He pays, then?" queried Beltani.
Ramua had begun her reply when, to the surprise of all three of them,Charmides himself, who at last had understood a whole phrase, and thusgrasped the situation, came out with a stammering and broken, "I pay."And forthwith he took from his bag another piece of silver and held itout to Beltani, who received it shamelessly, while both girls, indignantand helpless, looked on. Fortunately, at this juncture, Bazuzu camedown-stairs to say that the sesame boiled, the dates were cooled, andthe jar of beer had been set out on the roof.
Baba returned to her neglected toilet; while Beltani, turning to Ramuawith a very agreeable "Bring the stranger up-stairs," departed in hasteto see that enough had been cooked to include Charmides in the meal, andyet leave something for Bazuzu afterwards.
Ramua waited till Baba had retired to the sleeping-room to bind up herhair; and then, rather apologetically, indicated to Charmides thewater-jar. He proceeded, not without a little qualm of distaste, toplunge his head and arms into the same water used ten minutes before byBaba. How Ramua managed Charmides never learned; for, while he shook thewater from his hair, and wiped his face and hands with a garment of hisown taken from his bundle, his companion followed her sister to theinner room, from which they presently emerged together, glowing, demure,smooth-haired, and ragged only as to tunics. The three together thenmounted the brick staircase in the deepening twilight, to find the wholetenement on the roof at supper.
Beltani, who had waited impatiently for their appearance, was shoutingacross to a friend certain pieces of information in a way that terrifiedRamua. Charmides might again display that unlooked-for comprehension;and if he did!--Ramua flushed in the semi-darkness. But the rhapsode,though he did not understand one word in twenty of those that werespoken about him, had already formed a very fair opinion of Ramua'smother; and nothing that she could have said would much have amazed him.But, disagreeable as she was, he felt that more than she might beendured for the sake of sitting, at each meal, so close to thatdelightful bit of humanity, Ramua. As to Baba, with her big eyes andpinched face, and the wonderfully beautiful little body concealed by herhopelessly insolvent garments, she meant nothing to him now, one way orthe other. It was all Ramua--Ramua, who, with her pretty, quiethelpfulness, her modesty, and also, in no small measure, her veryapparent satisfaction in his presence, made the impressionable Sicilianat home in Babylon.
Before supper was begun Bazuzu came up to the roof again, bearingin his hand a lighted dish-lamp. Chaldean twilights were very short.Day and night were too fond to be kept at arm's-length, and almostbefore a sunset had time to reach the height of its glory, grayshadows, the loving arms of darkness, were encircling the glow, andpresently--lo!--from the east a string of stars was shining forth, andday had fallen to the night's caress.
The hour of the meal was as a dream to Charmides; a dream so vivid that,long years after, when he approached old age, he found himself able torecall with ease every look, every gesture, every shadow that passedbefore his eyes. The taste of boiled sesame and garlic never failed tobring back the impression of this meal; and time came to be when themaster-singer, of his own accord, would go forth to purchase the coarsefood that should conjure up again before him Beltani's masculine facewatching him out of the shadows; Baba's big eyes fixed unwinkingly uponhim; the ungainly figure of Bazuzu, standing in the background besideZor, the goat; lastly, delight of all delights, Ramua again beside him,at his shoulder, her head turned just a little away, her eyes refusing,out of shyness, to meet his, her pure profile all that was to be seen ofher face, a little of her smooth shoulder just visible through a suddenrent in the tunic. And at this point Charmides would cover his eyes withhis hands to hold the memory, and laugh a little out of pure joy that ithad all been so.
At the time of its happening, however, one could not have calledCharmides joyful. He was weary, he was hungry, he was conscious that theobject of his journey had been fulfilled, and that, now that all wasdone, his home was at a measureless distance, and there seemed noimmediate prospect of returning to it. Onion-flavored grain, eaten withan awkward wooden spoon out of the same dish from which three otherswere also eating, might be poetic to think of, but was not delightful inactuality. To eat with Ramua--well and good in its way; with Beltani,however--no! and as for Baba, he regarded her already with displeasure.Her eyes were too big and her body too meagre.
There was not much conversation at supper. The uncertainty as to theactual powers of Charmides in the way of understanding the Babylonishtongue was dampening to the general spirit. Beltani could only dream ofthe morrow, when she should have an hour's rest, at any cost, forchatter with Noubta; at which time the estate and importance of thefair-haired one would be definitely settled. Meantime supper must be gotover as rapidly as possible. The sesame duly finished, what remained inthe dish was handed over to Bazuzu; and bread, dates, and cheese beingportioned out, the women rose from their stiff postures and took up lessconstrained positions in various spots on the roof. Ramua carried herfruit over to the edge of the roof and sat there in the starlight, herfeet hanging over the unrailed edge, munching comfortably. Charmidesfinished his second course where he sat at table. Baba had thrownherself down by Zor, who was eating a hearty supper of refuse; andBeltani went to the other end of the roof to visit a friend. Now theGreek, scenting an opportunity, finished his dates, and darted down thestair-way, to return after a few minutes' search in the darkness withhis lyre. Ramua did not notice his return, for she had not seen him go.But Baba's little hand tightened on Zor's silken hair, when she feltthat he had come back to the roof. Without moving or making any sound,without even a change in expression, she saw him hesitate for thefraction of a second, and then pass quietly over and seat himself atRamua's side.
Charmides was disappointed, perhaps, that the maiden made no sign ofsatisfaction at his coming. She sat staring up into the high,star-spangled heavens, oblivious, apparently, of everything below them.He also remained silent, looking off towards the dark canal that wound,black and smooth, between the high buildings jutting over it on eitherside. After all, Babylon, the city of which he had dreamed so long, heldnothing that was strange to him. It had been so long his heart-home thathe loved it now. As he thought of all that he had done for the sake ofbeing within its giant walls, and as he reflected upon
the success ofhis great purpose, he forgot Ramua beside him. He had not come for her.She was only a part of the city, the city that he had discovered out ofthe mighty west. How far above him he had thought all Babylon must be!Yet here it was, at his right hand; and he might touch it where hewould, it would welcome him.
Pleased with his thoughts, Charmides ran his fingers over the silverstrings of his lyre; and, because he was accustomed to express hisemotions in that way, he lifted up his voice and sang, in a gentle tone,some rippling Grecian verses in a melody so delightful that Ramua turnedto marvel, and little Baba laid her head down upon Zor's warm coat inrapturous delight.
Presently, however, Charmides stopped short. Beltani, drawn by the soundof his voice, returned to her corner of the roof, and in the darknessstumbled over Baba's prostrate body. There was a harshly angryexclamation, a sharp blow, a stifled cry of distress, and then hermother was at Ramua's side, commanding her down-stairs. The girl obeyedwithout protest, and Charmides followed her, distressed and helpless. Inthe rooms below, a torch and a lamp gave forth a dim and greasy light.In the first room, against the wall, sat Bazuzu, who had just finishedarranging a bed for the stranger. It was but a heap of rags and mats,covered over with a torn rug; and Charmides was soon made to understandthat upon this he was expected to pass the night.
The whole room was utterly uninviting. However, he was tired enoughgenuinely to welcome the thought of rest, and he looked for the women toretreat to their own room at once. He soon discovered, however, thatthere was no hope of their immediate retirement. Baba, having driven hergoat into its corner, where it obediently lay down, went back to thedoor-way and stood looking out upon the night. Ramua was busy making alittle fire on the brick table, out of two pine-cones. Beltani held abit of wood, which she was laboriously shaping with a knife into a crudeimitation of a human figure. Charmides watched her with no littlecuriosity. Her whittling finished, she carefully gathered up all theshavings and threw them into the fire. Then, with a word, she summonedBaba and Bazuzu to her side, and, with an imperious gesture, brought theGreek also into the circle around the little fire. Very solemnly sheplaced in the centre of the flame the wooden image that she had carved;and, while the fire caught it up, the four Babylonians lifted theirvoices dolefully, in the old Accadian incantation against demons:
"O witch, whosoever thou art, whose heart conceiveth my misfortune,whose tongue uttereth spells against me, whose lips poison me, and inwhose footsteps death standeth, I ban thy mouth, I ban thy tongue, I banthy glittering eyes, I ban thy swift feet, I ban thy toiling knees, Iban thy laden hands, I ban thy hands behind. And may the moon-god, ourgod, destroy thy body; and may he cast thee abroad into the lake ofwater and of fire. Amanu."
This prayer, of which Charmides understood not a word, but the import ofwhich he pretty clearly guessed, was the regular conclusion of the day.No Babylonian of the lower class could have passed the night in peacehaving omitted this exorcism. When it was over Bazuzu filled a dish withthe ashes and carried it outside the door, setting it just over thethreshold, where no thing of evil could enter the house without passingit. This done, Beltani, with a gesture of good-night to the stranger,retreated into her bedroom, with Baba on the one side of her and Ramuaon the other.
Now at last Charmides was free to rest. Bazuzu, of course, was in theroom; but he, having extinguished the lamp, and making signs that whenCharmides was ready to sleep he should put out the torch, laid himselfdown upon his pallet, and, turning his face to the wall, fell soundlyasleep. Charmides did not follow immediately. In the flickering light heknelt down and prayed to his lord, Apollo of the Silver Bow, renderingthanks for the safe accomplishment of his journey, and acknowledging thegod-head of Istar, whom, in his heart, he regarded as Artemis incarnate.
His devotions over, he rose, extinguished the torch, and felt his way tothe bed. He sank upon it with a sensation of delight. His weary limbsrelaxed, and for a moment his head swam with the relief of the recliningposition. Nevertheless, it was some time before he slept. Through theopen door-way the cool, sweet breath of the summer night stole in uponhim. In the square, black patch of sky visible where he lay came two orthree stars: the same stars that had looked on him in Sicily. A suddenspasm of longing and of fear--fear of his strangeness, his helplessnessin this vast city, came over him then. From out of the night he heardhis mother's voice calling him from the shore of the sea; and heanswered her with a moan. For a little time her form stood out beforehis eyes, clear and luminous against the black background. Then,gradually, the blinding rays of Istar's aureole replaced her, and Istarherself was before him, in all her surpassing beauty. After a time sheflashed out of his sight, but not before the thought had come to him,unsummoned, that he had not yet finished with Istar of Babylon in hercity; that she, the great, the unapproachable goddess, would need him atsome future time to succor her. He smiled at the idea, thinking it adream. And with the thought of dreams he entered the land of them, norcame forth again till morning dawned.
The night wore along, and there came to be but one sleeper in the room.Black Bazuzu was awake, sitting--no, standing up. He moved noiselesslyto the door-way, and picked up there one of the baskets of his ownmaking. With this he crossed the threshold of the door, steppingcarefully over the witch's plate, and presently disappeared into theblackness beyond. An hour later he came quietly in again, put his basketinto its place, and stopped to listen carefully to the sound of hiscompanion's breathing. It had not changed. With a satisfied nod theslave returned to his couch, laid him gladly down, and slept.
Sunlight streaming over his face, the sound of a quick exclamation, anda little ripple of laughter, brought the Greek to his senses nextmorning. Ramua, bright-eyed and smiling, sat in the door-way, a heap offresh and dewy flowers in her lap, a basket-tray beside her. She wasfastening up little bouquets of roses, lilies, heliotrope, nasturtiums,iris, narcissi, and the beautiful lotus. Baba, as usual, was playingwith Zor, who had just made another rent in her much-tattered garments;and Bazuzu lay upon his pallet, still asleep. Presumably Beltani was onthe roof. Charmides hoped so. He had already come to prefer her at adistance. But at present the rather unusual arrangements of thishousehold puzzled him; and he could not tell, from precedent, where anyof its members would ordinarily be at this hour.
Charmides rose, not a little embarrassed at having been asleep in thepresence of Ramua and her sister. He became in time accustomed to thevery free manners current among Babylonians of the lower class; but atpresent he was mightily relieved when Ramua, with a tact hardly to behoped for, jumped up from her place, and, calling to Baba to follow her,departed towards the roof with her fragrant burden. Charmides at oncebegan his toilet, which he happily finished without interruption. Then,leaving Bazuzu still asleep, he sought his hosts in the upper air.Breakfast was ready, and it proved to be a gala meal. There wasmeat--goat's flesh from the yesterday's sacrifice. For on days thatfollowed great religious festivals the flesh from the sacrificialhecatombs was sold at a minimum price to the poor, so that the greaterpart of Babylon had meat to eat. Besides this, there were milk andbread; and Charmides, in a sunny mood, felt that the king himself couldhave desired nothing more.
The meal was quickly over, and, a few minutes afterwards, Charmidescould scarcely have told how, he found himself walking, lyre in hand, atRamua's side, along the bank of the canal, on the way to the temple ofIstar. On her head Ramua carried her basket of fresh flowers. The Greekwatched her closely and with delight as she moved, lithe, straight, andgraceful as a young tiger, her bare feet making delicate marks in thedust of the way, her hair, to-day unbound, swinging behind her in long,silken masses. And Charmides' beauty-loving eyes brought joy to his soulas he regarded her. Yet his walk was not wholly a light-hearted one. Hismind was troubled with thinking, as other men thought, as he had notthought before, of a means of livelihood. Here he was, thrown utterly onhis own resources. If he would live he must work--must gain enough tokeep him, however simply, when his father's money was used up. Thisconvicti
on was not an easy one to face. There was but one thing that heknew how to do well, and at all times liked to do, and that thing heldforth small promise of earning him money. His poor lyre! In any provinceof Greece, or Lydia, there had been small cause for worry. Rhapsodistswere of a class apart, and were reverenced by an art-loving people as onan equality with their priests. Zeus might be the greatest Olympian; butApollo had a shrine in every heart. Babylonia, however, was not Greece;and what the Babylonian fancy for music might be, Charmides did notknow. Thus when the long walk was ended, and Ramua had taken her placeon the platform steps below the temple of Istar, she looked up into hisface to find the usually bright countenance as solemn as that of anibis. Nor could any word or look of hers bring more than the shadow of asmile to his lips.
Charmides stood beside her for a few moments, looking across the thinlypeopled square. Then his shoulders straightened. He gave a littleoutward manifestation of his mental state, looked at Ramua with afarewell smile, and left her, walking swiftly away towards theA-Ibur-Sabu.
Ramua, confounded, cried after him impulsively: "You will return! Youwill return to me at noon?"
Charmides looked round, nodding reassuringly, but whether in response toher words or merely in answer to her voice, the maiden could not tell.She sat quite still where he had left her, her head drooping a little,utterly forgetful of her business, paying not the least attention topossible buyers. The sun poured its bright, scorching heat down upon thegray bricks. Water-sellers were to be heard crying their ever-welcomerefreshment. Chariots, carts, and litters passed through the square. Thecity's voice rose murmurously through the heat, and one by one the usualbeggars and venders made their appearance on the platform steps.
Through the hours Ramua sat spiritless, watching those that passed upthe temple steps, selling her flowers unsmilingly, half unwillingly, tothose that offered to buy. At early noon she felt a first qualm ofhunger, and looked up to find the sun at its zenith. With a start shecame to herself. It was past her usual luncheon hour. All around herlittle meals of bread, sesame, and dates were being brought forth by thehabitues of the steps. The cripple on Ramua's left hand, thinkingperhaps that she must go hungry to-day, proffered her half of his loafwith a compassionate, misshapen grin. Ramua refused him with a forcedsmile, and, heavy-hearted, took out her food and showed it to him. Therewas enough for two in her package to-day; and she regarded it unhappily,still hesitating to eat, while the hope that Charmides might return diedwithin her. Once again she looked over the deserted square, and then,resolutely turning her face to the temple, took one dry mouthful ofbread. Charmides was gone for evermore. She should not see him again.Another bite: Charmides had been killed. A third: his body was floating,face downward, in the black, hurrying waters of the cruel Euphrates. Afourth, a fifth, a sixth, and there appeared a tear, that rolleduncontrollably down her pretty nose. She put her bread away--when beforehad she not been hungry at noon?--and then sat with her head bent,trying to conceal her grief from the sympathetic beggar.
Presently some one came up the steps and sat down close beside her. Shefelt the presence, but did not look round. Suddenly a big, ripe melonwas placed before her, by a hand too white for Babylon. Ramua startedup, with a spasmodic breath, and her face glowed like the sun after asummer storm. Charmides, the morning trouble all gone from his face, wasat her side. In one hand he held a number of ripe figs. The other hadborne the melon. Ramua retired at once within herself, too shy to domore than smile faintly and then try to hide her face, with itsunconcealable joy. But such a welcome pleased the Greek more thananything else; for, as he was beginning to realize, his instinctsregarding woman nature were quite unexpectedly reliable.
Luncheon was now eaten in earnest; and the cripple could not but beamazed at the change in Ramua's appetite. With a little laugh she brokethe melon on the steps, and proffered a large piece of it, together withhis bread and dates, to the Greek. She herself ate slowly but willingly,answering the looks of the rhapsode, and even talking to him in thetongue that he could not understand.
There came a time, however, after the last fig was gone and the cup ofwater had been bought and drunk, when embarrassment fell between thetwo. Ramua feared, dreaded, and then half hoped that Charmides wouldrise and go away again, this time to stay. She felt that she could makeno effort to keep him at her side. She would have given half her life tobe able to treat him with natural gayety; and yet, had she been able todo so, the essence of delight in all this would be gone. Charmideshimself was suffering from the inability to talk to her. But after anunbearable period of awkward silence he strove to solve theirdifficulty. Leaning over from where he sat, and touching the girl'stunic, he said to her, by means of signs and looks, and a word or two:
"What is the name of this?"
Ramua smiled with delight. "_Kadesh_" she replied; and in this wayCharmides' course of study was begun. The first lesson lasted for anhour, and at the end of it the Greek knew not a few words that promisedto stick in his memory. When he felt that he could retain no more, hestopped her, and sat conning his lesson on the steps in the sunshine,while she, tardily recalled to duty, took her flower-basket and wentforth into the square to proffer her somewhat drooping bouquets to thepassers-by. By the time she returned to her companion the sun was midwaydown the heavens, and Charmides, lyre in hand, stood, evidently waitingfor her. By means of signs he made her understand that he must leave hertill after sunset, when he would return again to the square to go homewith her.
Ramua did not ask his destination. Very probably he could not have madeher understand it had she done so. She watched him pass down a narrowstreet that led to the southwest, out of the square of Istar, in thedirection of the temple of Sin. It was to the holy house of the moon-godthat Charmides went; for his single morning in Babylon had found him ameans of livelihood.
Though he himself was unaware of the exact position that he held, he wasattached to the temple as an oracle. That morning, as he had hummedhimself through the square of Sin, one of the Zicaru, or monks inservice at the temple, had chanced to hear his voice, and, perceivingthat the singer was of foreign race, and being himself a highly educatedman, as were all of his order, addressed the fair-haired one in thewesternmost language that he knew--Phoenician. Charmides had come near tofalling at his feet and worshipping in the delight of finding some oneto speak to. But the Zicari led him gravely into one of the inner roomsof the temple and there asked him sing and speak and play upon hisinstrument, and after a time made him an offer to join the templeservice, unordered as he was, and to do exactly what he was told forabout three hours in the day. The pay was high, and to Charmides itseemed that a miracle of fortune had befallen him. Such being the case,it was, perhaps, just as well that he did not understand the fullsignificance of his duties. For an hour in the morning he was to standinside of the heroic statue of the god, and to speak through thehalf-open mouth words whispered in his ear by an attendant priest. Hewas not told that his peculiar pronunciation of the Babylonian syllablesand the melodious softness of his voice were invaluable adjuncts to theoracle of Sin; and that, furthermore, the fact that he understood not aword of what he said made him more desirable for the place than anymember of the under-priesthood would have been. Besides this curiouswork, he was supposed to assist at sacrifices by playing on the flute orlyre; and by means of these light duties his livelihood became anassured thing, and his place in Babylon was secure. He asked noquestions, either of himself or of the priest, his master. He acceptedeverything with childlike faith; and, verily, it seemed that, brush ashe would against the world, the bloom of his pristine innocence wouldnever be rubbed from Charmides' unstained soul.
So, having found a home and an occupation, within forty-eight hoursafter his arrival in the Great City, Charmides' life in Babylon began.
Istar of Babylon: A Phantasy Page 13